


Stories of Heroes: Protect & Serve

by Honey_Baby_Bee



Series: The Legends of the Old Republic [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Being revised.... fun times..., F/M, Game Spoilers naturally, More mature than my other fic..., Non-Sexual Slavery, Sith being Sith, Tag as we go...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-10-16 02:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honey_Baby_Bee/pseuds/Honey_Baby_Bee
Summary: Miranda O'del has only known the Jedi Order, serving and protecting innocents from terrors and horrors of the Sith and their Empire. On the other side of the coin, Alexandria Rey'el has only known the harshness, the brutality of the Sith, their enjoyment of torturing those they deem unworthy, unfit. Both are striving to preserve their way of life. Which one wins the battle Light or Dark? Or do either win at all...?Follows the Jedi Knight and Sith Inquisitor storyline in Star Wars: The Old Republic MMO. It shouldn't have the in-game dialogue unless it's important. I'm already doing on that in another series, I don't want them to be too similar and/or boring to read.





	1. Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BBY - Before Battle of Yavin  
> ATC - After Treaty of Coruscant

~-=-~-=-~-=-~-=-~-=-~-=-~-=-~

           We have lost a lot of our history when the Galactic Republic transformed into the Galactic Empire, Emperor Palpatine ensured that. However, I, myself, denied his order, collecting all the information I could from the stormtroopers who raided the Jedi Temple. I came across thousands of legends from the Old Republic ear, those fought the same evil we became. I’ve decided to publish the stories, hoping to inspire those who long for freedom, peace, once more. There is only one story I could think to share, to make public knowledge. For now, the stories can only be fiction but this hologram will become my retelling of the story that one day will be released after my death. I have hope peace may be restored which the battle of Yavin, the Rebel Alliances victory, inspired I hope one day they receive this story to know they aren’t, were never, alone fighting injustice, the Dark side of the Force. The Great Galactic War begin in 3681 BBY, when the Sith Empire led by Sith Emperor Vitiate revealed themselves to the Galactic Republic, renewing their conflict that seems to follow them everywhere. Vitiate was viler then our Emperor and reigned for over a thousand years, his power unmatched and nearly infinite. But with all wars there comes an end but I think you should see that for yourselves.

         We begin decades after the War begins, a shaky peace agreement called the Treaty of Coruscant, signed after the Sith attacked Coruscant, destroyed the Jedi Temple while their best came to a false peace summit. The year is 8 ATC or 3645 BBY…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ==========================  
> Hope ya'll enjoy it and sorry for any mistakes.  
> Positive feedback is greatly appreciated!


	2. Prologue: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will hopefully be the only time I have the in-game dialogue word for word, so I hope you don't mind...

Plans at Work

~-=-~-=-~-=-~-=-~-=-~-=-~-=-~

~-Miranda O’del-~

            The sun’s morning light barely cascades from behind the Tythonian Mountains, urging the shadows to recede. The thick morning fog that covers the Padawan Training Grounds begins to lift, willing its inhabitants to see the incoming danger they face. The wind stills, wanting those it passes to hear the hundreds of feet barreling towards them. The lush green field weeps as the first red drops of innocent Padawan blood begins to coat the ground. The moons, Ashia and Bogan, yearn for its hero to land, to save those that cannot save themselves. All are joyful when a small Republic Medical Shuttle breaks through the atmosphere, containing their hope: their hero. The inhabitants on the Master’s Retreat continue on their way, ignorant of what they are beholding.

            Inside the fateful shuttle, three medics are fussing over a young woman in tan Padawan robes with soft coppery red hair and startling piercing ice blue eyes, her beauty only marred by a healing gash that stretches from her forehead over her right eye stopping just under the bone of her cheek. They say she’s lucky to still have her perfect vision, but she knows she’s lucky to be alive. The past few days she’s been wondering why she was lucky, why the Force chose her and left her master, her uncle to fall. She shakes her head, unwilling to think of that now, and begins shooing away the medics as the shuttle begins the landing sequence. A slightly older Knight stops mid-lecture, as he sees it land, letting the three younglings to return to their masters. He smiles, his hazel brown eyes crinkling with mirth, as the young woman walks down the shuttle’s ramp. He takes note of the two training sabers attached to her back, ridding his mind of the innocence she once reflected. Her eyes wander the serene familiar landscape of the Jedi homeworld finally landing on the object of her attention, the young Jedi Knight coming to greet her. She grins, “Derrin Weller, long time since I last saw you.” The young knight chuckles as he greets her with a cautious hug, then begins the walk to his office, “Miranda, welcome home! I trust your journey has been a smooth one?” Miranda shrugs, “It would have been better if I could fly myself here.”

 _But no,_ her mind supplies, _medical wouldn’t allow an ‘injured’ ‘destressed’ Padawan to handle herself after she defeated a fully-fledged Sith Lord._ She grimaces _no, don’t go there. Not now. Not when I’m finally home._ Derrin looks at her sympathetically, “How are you handling,” he pauses as he clears his throat, “things?” Again, she shrugs, “I try not to think about it. Besides ‘there is no death, only the Force.’” The young Knight grimaces but nods, placing a hand on her shoulder, “Then let’s move straight to business. Your,” he clears his throat again, “former Masters praise your combat skills. They say you’re becoming an expert dualist.” Miranda looks down, “It’s easy to excel when you’re trained by the best.” Derrin nods, “The Jedi Council will assign you a new Master to oversee your final trails, but first you need to get,” the sound of his holo terminal interrupts him and his jaw sets. “What is it?” the Padawan asks, already getting anxious. “I’m getting an emergency signal,” Derrin says as he answers the terminal and an alien, Padawan Unaw Aharo, appears.

            “—under attack, repeat, under attack! Flesh Raiders are invading the Padawan training grounds! They have blasters! Send Help!” Miranda’s blood runs cold, “The Raiders have never been this far! Those Padawans are in trouble!” Derrin nods, “Exactly why I’m sending you, Miranda. Most of them haven’t received any combat training.” The Padawan nods, “I’ll do what I can. Alert me if you learn anything more and be careful, okay?” _I don’t want to lose anyone else,_ her mind adds but she shakes her head repeating the Jedi code to keep her composure before running out to the speeders to take her to the training grounds. She freezes at the sight before her once she lands, her hand unconsciously tracing her wound. Dozens of bodies of Padawans litter the ground, their red blood marring the serene beauty. Screams and yells of those still alive and fighting permeate the air, filling one with dread and horror. Miranda still pushes on, repeating the Code in her mind as she runs and leaps to protect an open Knight.

            When Miranda starts calming down and the Flesh Raiders numbers are dwindling, her holo beeps. Sighing she answers it, “Yes?” Derrin appears crouching with his hand on his chest. Her heart stops, her fear returning _if he got hurt how many others are_. Derrin smiles, thankful she hasn’t suffered any injuries, “Of course, you’re fine. I knew you would be,” he says through the pain, “A Padawan saw a cave the Flesh Raiders were coming out of. I would help you but I got hurt saving a group of Padawans.” The young Padawan grimaces, trying to rein in her emotions, “Give me the coords and I’ll be there as fast as I can.” He does with a nod before he disappears, and she begins to recite the Jedi Code once more as she heads to the cave, killing any Flesh Raider who crosses her path. The cave is within walking distance, tucked between two outcroppings of trees, hidden from plain view. O’del stifles a horrified gasp as she enters, feeling a dark presence reminiscent of the presence of a Sith Lord. _There can’t be Sith here, or the Council and the others would have felt them._ She freezes as she hears a familiar man’s voice, but unable to identify who it is, but knows it feels like a memory. _“The dark side can blind even the strongest of the Jedi. Remember when I told you of the return of the Sith, the Jedi didn’t see us until we let them.”_ O’del shudders, feeling the pride in the man’s voice as she goes deeper into the cavern, killing any Flesh Raiders she crosses. The cave begins to transition into a large chamber with a gap leading to another cave. In front of it, a masculine voice says “Stop struggling, Padawan. Your life was over as soon as you set foot here.” The speaker is Callef, a young Human man tainted by darkness, talking to an injured Unaw Aharo. To which Aharo replies, “You are Jedi. Why would you kill me?” The man crosses his arms, “Because the Order must evolve and you are weak.”

            “Step away from the Padawan,” O’del states, surprised at how calm she sounds, as she approaches. Callef turns to face O’del, “Hmm. You are… dangerous. You killed my soldiers.” Her eyes widen, _soldiers?!_ Just as Unaw says, “He commands the Flesh Raiders attacking us.” She grimaces, fearing exactly that, as two much larger Flesh Raiders flank Callef as he cockily says, “Not attacking—cleansing. And we’ve only just begun.” Miranda glances at the injured Unaw Aharo, knowing she’ll have to protect them both if it comes to a fight. “Lay down your weapons, I don’t want to hurt you.” Callef laughs, “The old order is dead. Long live the new order,” igniting a blue lightsaber. The two Flesh Raiders are quick but are easily handled after O’del fought many to get here. She grimaces as Callef nearly growls as he launches into his attack. She barely blocks his first strike, before hearing her Uncle and master’s voice, _‘You are stronger than he is, concentrate!’_ She nods minutely before beginning to silently recite, _‘There is no emotion, there is only peace,’_ then initiates a strike of her own with her off hand. Though the short fight, O’del studies Callef’s moves as she was trained to, finding that he’s trying to make up for his lacking form with aggression, but opening himself to attacks. She pushes him, seeing even more flaws in his training than using them to her advantage. He doesn’t surrender even when he knows he’s losing. It ends when O’del lands the killing blow. _Why did you force my hand?_ she silently pleads as his lifeless body falls, with her nearly falling to her knees as sobs threaten to rack her body.

            “That was amazing. I thought we were dead,” Unaw exclaims, reminding O’del that she’s not alone this time. “You two alright? What happened here?” says a vaguely concern voice of Master Orgus Din of the Jedi Council. “This Jedi attacked us, Master Orgus. He was sick… confused.” Unaw says motioning to the man’s body. “Thank the Force that you’re both safe,” Din says before kneeling to examine the body, “This man’s no Jedi—at least, not one of us.” He picks up the lightsaber. “There is something oddly familiar about this,” as he examines it. Miranda sighs “Well, that’s reassuring.” Orgus chuckles internally, glancing at the Padawan who nearly single-handedly saved the Training grounds, “You held off all these attackers by yourself with only a practice saber. Impressive, Padawan O’del.” Miranda stifles a grimace, hearing her uncle’s last name, her last name, before solemnly saying, “I followed my instincts, that’s all.” He nods, “They serve you well.” He turns facing the gap, “This battle is over, but we still need to prevent any more Flesh Raiders from entering the training grounds.” He raises his hand, calling on the Force causing a cave in “Now, Unaw I’ll get you to a med center. O’del, you seem alright enough to travel alone. Report to the Jedi Council.” Miranda grimaces, “I don’t feel comfortable leaving things like this.” Orgus sighs, internally shaking his head, _girl after my own heart,_ “Let the others held it, O’del. You’ve done enough.” She nods, “Of course, Master Orgus. I’ll see you there.” The Flesh Raiders numbers have greatly decreased, finally allowing somewhat safe travel to the Jedi Temple. When Miranda reaches the outpost, she takes a speeder to the Temple. Upon arriving at the Temple, her holo beeps again and she answers it, and Master Satele Shan appears, “Padawan O’del, I’d like to speak with you privately before we meet with the others.” Satele was the one who rediscovered Typhon, an achievement that gave her the title of Grandmaster. Miranda swallows before nodding, and Satele disappears. O’del glances around nervously as she heads to the Grandmaster’s private meditation room and chambers. When she reaches the chambers, she feels the peace that always surrounds the Master Jedi. Entering, Miranda sees Satele meditating, though when Shan senses O’del’s presence, she rises. She carefully walks toward the Young Padawan softly saying, “You have had a traumatic couple of weeks, young one. Watched your Master and Uncle fall as well as fighting and killing, not one but two dark Force users.”

            A sob racks Miranda’s body, as her body nearly crumples into itself. However, the young Padawan’s body never falls as the Grandmaster catches her. Shan’s face is serene only marred by a single tear as she takes the young woman, who she saw grow up, to one of her couches, rubbing her back as she does. Once O’del is sitting down, Shan has the young Padawan face her then wipes away the tears before wrapping her in a motherly hug. When O’del’s tears subside, Shan speaks once more, “Taking a life is never easy, whether you are forced to or not. But do not let the grief consume you,” she says rubbing the Padawan’s back once more. After she calms, no longer shaking, Shan pulls away saying, “Shall we go meet the others?” O’del nods, not trusting her voice, and Shan smiles sadly, her heart breaking for the young woman before her who has lost so much, giving O’del time to collect herself before she says, “You go first, there is still something I must do.” Miranda takes big calming breaths as she stands and makes her way to the Council Chambers, one the second floor. It’s a big circular room with enough chairs for the masters of the Council in a circle around a large holo terminal in the center. Upon entering, Miranda sees that three of the eight Council members are off-world, but are attending via holo, Masters Tol Braga, Jaric Kaeden, and Syo Bakarn. Orgus Din and the Togruta Jedi Master Bela Kiwiiks are discussing what has happened. “I searched the Temple Archives. This Force user leading the Flesh Raiders never received Jedi training,” Master Kiwiiks states. A young woman next to her replies, “Then the Sith have found us. Shouldn’t we get ready for them?” Master Orgus shakes his head, “Calm yourself, Padawan. We can’t be certain of anything, yet.” Kiwiiks states, “But we’ve all sensed a growing darkness—perhaps it’s finally revealed itself.”

            “I’m sorry to interrupt, Masters. But even though the man was seduced by the Dark, he said the Order was weak and needed to be rebuilt. Forgave my assumption, but that doesn’t sound like a Sith Lord to me,” Miranda interrupts unable or unwilling to discuss any Sith involvement. “Ah good, you’re here. This is Master Kiwiiks’ extremely vocal Padawan, Kira. And I’m sure you remember the others,” Orgus says while motioning to the others. Masters Kiwiiks and Syo smile, while Tol Braga and Kaeden nod, in greeting. “Am I the only one who doesn’t know who this,” Kira asks offhandedly. “Our apologies, Kira, sometimes we forget not everyone knows her. This is Padawan Miranda O’del, the one who protected the training yards earlier today,” says a new voice. Kira gulps, “I didn’t know you were there, Grandmaster Satele,” the Masters chuckle. “It’s no problem, Kira. Now to the problem at hand, the Temple’s safety is unexpectedly threatened. The Flesh Raiders were disorganized primitives before today,” Master Satele says walking to her chair and sitting down. “The man leading the Flesh Raiders probably wasn’t working alone,” Orgus replies. “Much of Tython remains unexplored, and we have few resources to spare,” Satele adds, frowning internally. “I’ll handle it—with the help of my new Padawan,” Orgus answers followed by shocked gasps. “Orgus, you haven’t taken a Padawan since Coruscant,” Kiwiiks declares. “The Force is strong in her, stronger than I’ve seen in decades,” Orgus reports, glancing at the shocked Padawan O’del. Satele grins, glad her old friend has gotten over the Sacking, “I can think of no finer Master to complete young O’del’s training.” Then everyone looks at O’del, causing Miranda to swallow before walking toward Orgus’ side, slightly bowing “I’d be honored, Master. But I’ll complete my final trials once we’ve dealt with the Flesh Raiders.” Kiwiiks looks at Kira saying, “That is what you should aspire to, Kira.” Everyone smiles as Orgus addresses his new Padawan “Go to my chambers, I’ll meet you there.”

~-=-~-=-~

~-Alexandria-~

            At this same time, another shuttle containing several nervous Force-sensitives lands on the reddish-orange sands of Korriban. The third one to step down the ramp to ‘freedom,’ a young girl barely past the age of sixteen. Her long dark coppery red hair beginning to fall out of its intricate bun, and falling into her face as her blue-grey eyes rake in the hateful jagged terrain that is the homeworld of the Sith. A man dressed in all black roughly jars her from her survey of her new, _but temporary,_ surroundings with a rough meeting of his shoulder to hers. Her eyes narrow into slits and turn to a golden red shade as they follow him. The man only hesitates for a second in front of a gruff angry looking Sith. _Must be my new overseer,_ the girl thinks darkly as she walks toward him surveying him. Her new overseer, _toy really,_ her mind supplies, would be rather attractive if not for the permanent scowl etch deeply into his face. He also has a single red tattoo marking him as Sith. But other than that, she concludes, he is no threat to her, all of this takes a matter of seconds before her face turns into a confident smirk.

            Her Overseer sneers at her as she approaches, “Ah, the last one to arrive is finally here. I hope you don’t think you’re special.” She suppresses a growl wishing to say, _oh I know I’m special. I’ve already found about two hundred ways to kill you without breaking a sweat._ But she relents letting the conceited Overseer, _Harkun_ , she finds, barely glancing into the worm’s mind, continue “It would be a shame if freedom went to your head, or you somehow got the idea you didn’t need to pass your trials to become Sith. Lord Zash has tasked me with sorting through you refuse to find one worthy of being her apprentice, and I intend to do just that.” The girl’s eyes narrow raking his mind along with everyone’s around her for information on this ‘Lord Zash.’ She growls slightly at the ineptness of those around her and decides to ask instead, “Who is this Zash?” Harkun’s eyes narrow as his jaw twitches, “That’s Lord Zash to you, slave. She’s a Dark Lord of the Sith and more important than you’ll ever be.” She scoffs silently, deciding that her time is best spent evaluating her competitors.

            Her eyes land on the only other woman in the group, a fellow redhead a few inches shorter than herself. In a quick assessment, she finds nothing of value to make her a threat as her mind is easily accessible. She moves on from Kory to another meaningless competitor, the man closest to her. He’s about her height and scrawny, she amuses herself with his mind finding his name easily, Niloc, before moving on. The other three former slaves are behind her, so instead of turning to look at them she searches with the Force. All three are large but are more brute force then anything so not any threat, but that one who knocked into her just might be. _Too bad he just walked away, he might be able to provide some entertainment._ This too takes only a few seconds, as she is once again rudely brought out of her thoughts when Harkun snaps his fingers in front of her face. “Are you even listening to me!?” his voice raising with every word. She rolls her eyes, internally, “Of course. We are all worthless as the sand and you, beloved Overseer, are a god.” His eyes narrow at her tone but relents, “Now, the rest of you gutter trash already know your trial. Get going while I bring our late comer up to speed.” The men immediately walk out as the woman, Kory walks up to her. “Watch your back, friend. And don’t worry. It’ll be alright. He can’t kill us all.” The young girl nods, “A Sith fears no one, but thank you for the advice.” Kory smiles, “What’s your name?” The teenager glances around, “Alexandria, you can call me, Alexi”

            “Well, nice to meet you, Alexi. Good luck,” Kory says before leaving as well. Once she is out of sight, Harkun closes the distance between himself and Alexandria, hitting her across the face. “I do not care you were before or who you belonged too, worm, but I do NOT tolerate tardiness or being mocked. You will mind your place.” For a brief instance, Alexi’s eyes turn blood red again and she breathes in deeply to keep herself from instantly killing him. It’d be so easy too, just a little pressure in one spot and he’d be dead within a matter of minutes and she’d be long gone without anyone being the wiser. _But Marr wouldn’t be pleased,_ her mind reminds her, _he’d know exactly who did it._ She groans, nodding her head to show she concedes, but she really doesn’t. Harkun smirks proudly, “Good. Now your first trial is to speak with an insane hermit by the name of Spindrall within the walls of the Tomb of Ajunta Pall. You are to report to me in my office in the Academy. Don’t keep Spindrall waiting!” then with that he leaves. Alexi’s fists tighten as an aura of lavender Force lightning surrounds her, then she directs it at the nearest object instantly crumbling it to dust before walking briskly out of the chamber, _this is why I never accept failure._ Alexandria calms herself as she walks through the darken corridors of the Arrival Port, glaring at any unfortunate being that pasts her. She nearly groans seeing what lays between her at the Tomb of Ajunta Pall, K’lor’slugs. They vary from young to old, tiny to massive, their serpentine bodies propelled by many dagger-edged legs. Their mouths a gaping circular maw filled with concentric rings of teeth. Alexei grimaces, the only outward sign of her discomfort and abhorrence of the creatures, as she walks through them wishing to make herself invisible to spare herself the hassle of dealing with them. But it’s not met to be as one of the larger K’lor’slugs picks up her smell, its previous meals long forgotten. It raises its head emitting a silent call, bringing its fellows attention to the invader. She sighs internally, grabbing her training staff, longing for the feel of her familiar saberstaff, then faces the charging K’lor’slugs. Alexi smirks, her off hand glowing with her lavender Force lightning directing it to the creatures lagging behind, as she spins the training staff expertly fending of the creatures nearest her. Once their lifeless bodies fall, she runs down the steps lending to the Tomb, her lightning killing anything that comes to close. Her smirk becomes feral, seeing that besides the K’lor’slugs there are Tomb robbers, _something I can take my anger out on_.

            Alexandria walks towards them, her lavender lightning aura disappearing from view but still deadly. “Hey boys,” she calls, her voice sounding older and seductive, as she projects am image of a woman no man could resist, “Find anything good?” The tomb raiders freeze, glancing in her direction, licking their lips in hungrily anticipation. “Well,” their leader states with a smirk, “nothing like you.” She grimaces internally, hearing their vulgar thoughts and desires towards her, its nearly sickening but she covers it with, “Oh, that’s too bad.” The leader shakes his head, “But I think our luck is changing, Boys,” he pauses, “Grab her. We’ll see if she’s worth our time.” Alexi nearly growls, her fists tightening until they’re white, her lightning intensifying disintegrating anything that comes near her, including the Tomb Raiders. The others watch in grim fascination, their eyes until able to tear away from the cruel and violet death of their comrades. The remaining growl, grabbing their blasters and aiming at the unguarded Alexi. She chuckles as each shot is absorbed, the energy strengthening and invigorating her. She allows her eyes to become golden blood red, before effortlessly snapping their necks simultaneously leaving their leader for last. His eyes widen with fear as she approaches, protecting the pathetic man from her aura of death. “W—who a—are y—you?” the poor man stutters, trying to recoil from the deathly goddess before him. She smirks, “I am death incarnate,” reaching her hand out before squeezing thin air. The leader struggles for breath as his body raises in the air, his hands reaching for his chest instead of his throat as she’s squeezing his heart. She laughs as she lets his body fall lifelessly to the ground in a heap before continuing to Spindrall. She finds his chambers easily, as it’s the only one with living beings inside. His chamber is large with two statues of Sith Lords on a raised platform opposite of the only way inside, with training dummies on the lower floor where entry steps end. The Acolytes training on them, ignore her as she walks to their Master kneeling between the statues with his back to the door. “Slave,” Spindrall states unmoving, “no that’s not quite right is it. You are more than a simple slave. More than those who came before you. Yet you come for the same reason; for your trial.” Pausing as he rises turning to faces the Acolyte. His eyes are distant as they search her, before he chuckles darkly, “Before I honor you with my approval; a test you must do.” He motions to the center of the room, where the other Acolytes are still training. Alexi frowns, but does what he directs, with her back to him. Her frown turns into a smirk when the others stop their assault on the dummies, dissolving her fatal aura.

            Alexandria stays perfectly still as the six Acolytes continue towards her, her eyes closed as she uses the Force to watch and predict their movements. Her eyes opening seconds before the first Acolyte attacks her ‘open’ back. She dodges it effortlessly, her training staff instantly appearing in her hand as she spins both herself and the staff, becoming a blur of motion. Unbeknownst to her, Spindrall smirks, reveling in the power she dispels, _the creature of_ _my vision._ Alexi kills two of the Acolytes in the blur of motion before reappearing directing behind two of the remaining Acolytes, killing them with her electrical aura. The last two openly stare at her in shock and horror, their fear radiating from them. She simply tsks, the training staff appearing on her back before she effortlessly Force lifts them as she strides towards them, “You are pathetic creatures,” relishing in their terror. “Unworthy of the legacy and name of the Sith,” she continues before snapping one Acolytes’ neck, letting the last fall in a heap to the floor, “Prove your worth!” The last one surges to their feet, running angered at Alexi who hides her delight. Removing her aura completely, she gathers the Force around her like a shield protecting her from the Acolyte’s strike, shattering his training saber. He stumbles back, as Alexi tsks once more her training staff reappearing in her awaiting hand, that she spins. Time seems to slow before the weapon breaks the Acolyte’s ribs, then pierces his heart. As the dead body falls, malicious laughter breaks the eerily silence, “Good, thank you for freeing me from those filth, Acolyte. You were wise to feel and use their terror against them. You have earned my attention and judgment. Now, go. Return to Harkun and nurture your hatred for him, and use your fear of him to grow stronger. He may raise his fist to strike, but it is Lord Zash who will determine where the blow will land.” Alexi simply raises an eyebrow at the Hermit, before bowing her head to him in a sign of respect and gratitude before she spins walking out of the chamber.


End file.
